Priorities
by KHoobs
Summary: TITLE SUBJECT TO CHANGE A new dancer joins the Opera Populaire corps de ballet, and becomes friends with Christine. When everyone's beloved Opera Ghost starts feeling neglected, what will befall our poor Sebille?
1. Chapter 1

**Priorities**

**A/N: Uh...yeah. It's the first Phantom fic I've ever decided to be really serious about. I don't know...All of my other ones were kind flops, so I hope this one is better, since I'm gonig to actually put it up! The title may change, but I don't know yet...Please R/R!**

**Summary: A new dancer joins the Opera Populaire corps de ballet, and becomes friends with Christine. When everyone's beloved Opera Ghost starts feeling neglected, what will befall our poor Sebille? And I swear, this is not a story where Erik falls in love with the new girl. HE BELONGS WITH CHRISTINE! DOWN WITH RAOUL! -blush- I didn't say that.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything recognisable from Phantom. I own original characters and a lovely 2 disk collector's edition soundtrack that inspires me.

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I'll never say I wasn't afraid of my mother, because there were times when I feared going home to her anger more than walking the streets of Paris at night. But I think that she feared me, as well. I had a very bad temper, and had nearly killed a person before because of it. If I were to ever lose my temper in our small apartment, vases, windows, and mirrors didn't long survive the storm. But, while I was merely destructive in my fury, my mother had a way of cutting your soul open with sharp words, and then rubbing the salt in with the truth.

She was a small woman, just over five foot, with short, dark curly hair. I guess I didn't look much like her, and we didn't share much, except our horrid shortness. I had long, straight brown hair, and pale skin. Back then, I had stunning blue eyes, the only thing I was ever vain about. My father had left my mother a year after I was born, so I did not remember him. Mother never talked about him, but I know that he is dead. All I have about him is an old, yellowing newspaper article, no more than four sentances long. All it said was that a man had shot himself in a bar, along with four other people. Lovely, right?

I didn't have much talent in singing. Mother was always telling me that, anyway. But I loved to dance. I had been taking lessons from the woman who owned the building my mother and I lived in. Our apartment was over a seamstress' shop. My mother could sew, so the owner let us have the apartment above the shop as long as my mother worked there. The owner of the shop was a young woman, about twentythree, I believe. She had been dancing since she was three, but when when her mother died when she was thirteen, her father had gotten the shop, and my mother needed work and we need a place to live. So while Mother made lavish dresses and suits, the young owner of the shop taught me ballet. I was four when she started teaching me, and she told me that I appeared to have a talent for it.

My dancing was one of the few things my mother and I agreed on. She had always held contempt for me, though I was never completely sure why. I did not think it was because of my talent for ballet, because it was one of the only things she ever complimented me on.

"Sebille," she said one evening after watching me dance, "you have an extrodinary talent for twirling like you do. It's a pity your face is so plain; you will never make it as a dancer." I was only eleven at the time when she said this to me. I suppose it had hurt me, for I had thought that at least my mother didn't think me to be plain. When I left home to dance in the _corps de ballet _in the Opera Populaire, I was fourteen, and had grown up a bit.

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"Maman, you must let me go! You told me yourself that I was hopeless at sewing, so I'm of no use here at the shop! Ever since I was young you've told me that I would never amount to anything, but now that I have the opportunity to make something of myself, even if it's dancing in an opera house, and you just keep crushing my dreams! What have I ever done to you to make you loathe me so?" I screamed at my mother, a case filled with a few precious items and lovely garments made by my mother at my feet. "I'm no longer the plain little girl who danced for you three years ago in the shop! I've grown up, and there's nothing for me here! Why must you keep me here, when you know how miserable it makes us both? What have I ever done to you?" Tears streamed down my face. The man who had owned the shop had died suddenly, and his daughter, whose name was Faye, didn't want the shop, and entrusted it to my mother. She knew, as well, that I had no wish to stay there. She had connections with the ballet director at the Opera Populaire through a cousin who was one of the better dancers there. She told me that she had spoken with the ballet director, and I was welcome to come and audition, so to speak, for a place among the corps de ballet. 

Suddenly my mother erupted.

"What have you done to me? You took my beloved husband, my home, and my livlihood! You took away my life, you little wretch! Why should you be happy, when I sit here all day, making fine dress for the people of the higher class, when, had it not been for you, I could have been one of them! Now, go! Leave! Go and twirl around until your legs snap and your feet wither away! And when you wear your vibrant dancing costumes and dance for the nobles who come to dither away a night at the opera, remember that I could have been one of them!" And she took my arm in a vice-like grip I didn't know she possessed, took my travelling case in her other hand, and dragged me to the door, slamming it in my face.

I stood there, trembling and crying silently, staring at the door of what had been my home for eleven years. Knowing that I wasn't going to be coming back, and realizing, with a bit of shock, that I didn't particularly want to, I picked up my case, and started of to the Opera Populaire.

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Christine idly listened to the gossip of the corps de ballet as she prepared for bed. This nobelman had been caught with that nobelman's wife, and other such things. Suddenly, the door of our dormitory swung open, revealing Madame Giry leading in a short, pale girl. Madame Giry waited until she had all of the girls' attention before entroducing the new member of the Opera ballet. 

"Girls, this is Sebille Harvey. She will be joining us in the corps de ballet. I trust that you will show her around, and treat her with the same respect that you have for everyone else." Madame Giry then took ahold of Sebille's hand and led her to an empty bed next to Christine's.

"Sebille, this is Christine Daae. On her other side is my daughter, Meg Giry. You may follow with them and ask them any questions you might have. Now I must bid you all goodnight. We will practise tomorrow morning at ten thirty!" And with that she strode out. Christine watched as Sebille's pale cheeks reddened under the stares of the older ballet girls. Soon, though, the other girls found the poor, trembling creature uninteresting, and went back to their gossip. Meg got up from her bed and went over to Sebille.

"Oh! What lovely blue eyes you have! You should really lift your head up more so everyone can see! I'm Meg, but of course you already know that! May I ask how old you are? I'm fifteen now, and Christine here will soon be seventeen." Now, both Sebille's and Christine's faces flushed.

"I'm fourteen. I'll be fifteen in three months." She lowered her eyes to her case, which she had set on the bed. She opened it and took out a night gown. It was Meg's turn to blush.

"Oh! I'm sorry! You must be tired. It's very late. Usually, my mother doesn't allow us to stay up this late, but tonight she said we could. I wonder if it were because you were coming..Oh! I'm rambling again! Come, let Christine and I help you get ready for bed!" And so Sebille found her first friends in the intimidating, new world of the Opera Populaire.

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**Please R/R! Cookies if you do! Even if it's a flame...But if it's a flame it will be considered thoughtfully before being fed to my new kitten, Phantom, who I swear will eat anything...Even French Onion Sunships... o.O **

**Anyways! I think this is going to go mostly between Sebille's POV, Christine's, and Erik's, and of course, the first person thang. And Meg isn't a big part of the story. She's just there because she's friends with Christine...**

**Stop reading my mundane babbles and review, please! -hopeful grin-**

**Oh! And before I forget, I don't have a spellchecker or a beta. My computer yells at me everytime I try to get a spellchecker, so I'd really like a beta. If anyone wants to help, feel free to ask! -another hopeful grin-**

**-Kitty-**


	2. Chapter 2

**Priorities**

**A/N: So here is the second chapter. I've been up all night for this. And it's pathetically short, but, for some reason, my muse only comes when I stay up all night...**

**Disclaimer: Some candy is red, some candy is blue, I don't own the Phantom, but I'd sure as hell like to!

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A few weeks passed, and I had become friends with the girl, Christine Daae. She was very pretty: she had flawless, china doll skin, and beautiful, dark curls of hair. I longed to be just like her, for she was a great dancer, and she sang wonderfully. I wished day in and day out that I would one day have at least half the talent that she possesed. And then there was Meg. I liked Meg very much, but she was such a gossip! When we were together, she almost never stopped talking! I oftened wondered how she got through her mother's strict ballet lessons. Madame Giry did not permit us to talk. It was possible that Meg had been enduring those strict rules for so long that she talked all the time outside of them to make up for lost time.

She often told wild stories about the Opera Populaire being haunted by "the Opera Ghost." My mother never told me stories when I was a young girl, so I listened with rapt interest whenever Meg started talking about the Phantom, and how he used to do favors for her. I didn't know why, but whenver Meg told the stories, Christine would suddenly get very quiet, and often made excuses to leave. I didn't really want to pry, but I was determined to find out why my friend behaved that way.

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It was four weeks after Sebille had come to live here, at the Opera Populaire. She was two years younger than me, and I daresay she already was looking up to me as a sister. I didn't have any siblings...only Meg, who I had known since I came to live at the opera house nearly ten years ago. Meg seemed to like Sebille. Or at least she liked talking to Sebille. She was such a quiet little thing. I had noticed on her first night here, when Meg and I helped her get ready for bed, that her left arm had an angry looking bruise glaring from the pale skin. When Meg had gone to talk to her mother before bed, I asked Sebille about it. The poor girl burst into tears and then promptly spilled out her entire life's story to me. What a sad girl...I couldn't imagine living with a parent who flat out didn't want me. My mother died when I was three, and my father and I became very close after that. I felt sorry for Sebille, but I wasn't quite sure how to comfort her.

After that night, she was almost always at my side. Except, of course, when I had my music lessons.

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Meg was out one day with her mother to pick up new costume materials for the new production the opera house was going to be putting on, and Sebille and I were sitting on the steps of the grand foyer, just enjoying the quiet that had consumed the normally buzzing Opera Populaire.

"Christine," she said suddenly, "why are you just a dancing chorus girl when you sing so well? You could easily replace that singing cow, la Carlotta, you know. Oh, when she sings that aria for _Hannible_, it reminds me of the bad door back in the shop that screeched so horribly when you opened it..." She spoke it with such mild curiosity and innocence that I was compelled to laugh at the statement. Unfortunately, at that precise moment that Sebille began to speak unwittingly, la Carlotta herself had entered the foyer. She shrieked indignantly when I started to laugh that Sebille and I both sat stark up right. All mirth drained from us as Carlotta strode towards us with a face like a storm. I stood up swiftly and grabbed Sebille's hand, and we ran away, laughing helplessly. We hid in my dressing room, behind a changing screen. We didn't know if Carlotta had even chased us, but we sat very still for about fifteen minutes before we dissolved into hapless giggles.

After we had composed ourselves, we decided to stay in my dressing room to talk. Sebille sat, just looking at me for awhile.

"Honestly, Christine. Why don't you sing and take la Carlotta's spot as prima donna? You're so good..I wish I could sing half as well as you. My mother..she never encouraged my singing. She always told me that, while I may be able to outdance a butterfly, I would forever more be outsung by the crickets. And where do you go every week? Every time you come back, you're always so happy, and exhausted. Do you go out to meet with a lover, perhaps?" She managed a sly smile in my direction. I sat very silent, not knowing what to say. I was suddenly in a very dangerous situation, for both me and my dear Sebille. I had no wishes of getting her hurt.

"Of course I don't. Can you even imagine any man having any interest in me, anyway? No, I believe I'm only suitable for ghosts..." I then realized what I said. I had just worsened the situation. But Sebille just giggled slightly.

"Maybe you should meet the Opera Ghost then, dear Christine. If you're only suitable for ghosts, then you're perfect for each other! Except your voice...Your voice is like the music of the angels.." Damn this girl and her innocent, idle chatter. She does not know what she's saying, of course, and I hope that the ears I just know are listening know that it's just a girl's imagination.

"Why did your mother not encourage your singing? Did she ever say exactly why?" I inquired, trying to get Sebille away from thoughts of spectral beings. She frowned, and I silently apologised to her for opening old wounds.

She sighed. "She always told me that my voice was no good. She often told me that it was good that I could dance, because I was so utterly helpless at everything else. I can't sew to save my life, but I'm very good at reading and writing. My ballet instructor taught me. Faye taught me a lot, including dancing. I miss her so much. While Mother made dresses and such, Faye would teach me ballet. I've been learning since I was four. I didn't like her father, though. He was a nice enough man, I suppose, but I never really grew up around men. My father died when I was a year old. I think he shot himself, but my mother never spoke of him. All I know is that I'm supposedly the reason he's dead, and I only found that out by Mother's anger as she threw me out..." We sat in a rather uncomfortable silence. I think that Sebille was remembering her old life, but I was listening in dread for the beloved voice that I hoped would not come.

We jumped as Meg came bursting into the room unannounced. She was holding a few bags and smiling brightly.

"Come on, girls! I got sweet buns and candies, and all sorts of presents for you! And Mama says to bring you both down to look at the fabric for the costumes when it's brought over. It's absolutely to die for!"

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**-munches on the candies she stole from Meg- What? It's been a long night...Please review...I'll share my candy! -holds out bag of candy invitingly- And I still need a beta, please! Interested? Leave a reivew!**

**-Kitty-**


	3. Chapter 3

**Priorities**

**A/N: Entering...Erik's POV! **

**I'm not so sure about this chapter..Well, at least the beginning of it. Apparently, my muse has a skewed sleep schedual, and only works in the dead of night. But I still don't know about this chapter...Please r/r.**

**Disclaimer: If I had a nickel, I'll tell you what I'd do, I'd go and buy the Phantom, and show him off to you! But I don't have a nickle, and the Phantom I don't own, so I shall sit here crying, very much alone!****

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**Erik**

I watched in silence as Christine was dragged off with her friends. I was slightly glad that she was happy, but that feeling could not fight the overwhelming feeling of jealousy I felt towards the new girl in the corps de ballet. Christine spent nearly all of her time with the girl, except for her lessons with me that she still attended regularly. Though she still sang with the voice of an angel, her emotion in the music was fading. I called her out on it one night.

"You are not putting enough emotion and thought into your music! I will not stand for this, after your standards have already been set! Where is your mind, Christine, if it is not in the lesson?" I asked her, sternly. She glanced around the room fearfully.

"I...I'm sorry, Master. I'll try harder, I swear. Please, Master, don't ask anymore. I promise that I will do as you ask." I watched as she lowered her eyes, and I knew that she was crying. My heart softened at having made her cry. I knew why she had been preoccupied.

It was that damn girl, Sebille. Ever since she came, she had been asking questions of Christine, about where she went each week. She had dared to call my lessons a love tryst! I didn't like the idea of killing a young woman, but this girl was getting dangerous.

"Christine, my dear, we are done for now. Go now and rest." She looked up and smiled slightly. "But," I continued, "I do not want you to speak with that girl, Sebille, anymore. She is ruining your lessons, my dear. Surely, your Angel is more important to you than some ignorant ballet brat? Good night, my dear Christine." And, before I could see the hurt look of indecision upon her flawless face, I turned and left her.

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**Christine**

I knew that Erik knew why I was so distracted that night. I had walked in on Sebille earlier in the dormitory and she had looked like she was crying, but her eyes were slightly glazed over. I had been worried sick about her. When she had noticed me in the room, she shoved something in her pocket, and wiped her face clear of tears. She had smiled sadly, and assured me that everything was fine.

Now, in addition to being worried about my friend's strange behavior, I was also worried for her well being. Erik was now angry, and God knows what he will do in his anger! I didn't want anything to come between my angel and me, but I did not want to shun Sebille, or to cause her harm. I got up from the sofa in my dressing room and to the dormitory to prepare for sleep

As per usual, I got a few strange looks from the other girls, but I ignored them. I sighed, relieved, when I saw that Sebille was already asleep. I did not wish to answer any of her curious questions again. I did not know what would happen to her if I did.

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**Sebille**

I couldn't begin to fathom why my questioning had made Christine so uncomfortable. I was just curious, and more than a little jesting. I soon realized that I would probably never know where Christine went, and how she had learned to sing so beautifully. So, then I supposed, if she kept such secrets from me, I could have a few of my own

After Meg had given us our presents that day, and shown us the material our new costumes were to be made out of, Christine went to her mysterious meeting, and I was left alone for the time being. I made my way to the dormitory, and, making sure that there were no other girls in the halls or inside, I went silently to my bed. I took out my traveling case that I had brought with me, and took out a small packet from the very bottom. Setting the packet aside momentarily, I pushed my case back beneath my bed. I took the pack in my hands again and unwrapped it, revealing a small amount of morphine

I had found out that my mother had been taking this drug for many years, and I myself had begun a little over a year ago. She did not know, of course. I doubt that she would have cared that I was doing something so dangerous, but she would not like the idea of having to share anything more with me. I had taken this little bit from her before I had come to live at the Opera Populaire, and had not used any of it yet. This time, I took a very small amount, so that the affect would not last long, for fear of being caught, but long enough to escape for the time being.

I sat there, on the floor by my bed, thinking deeply in my drug-induced ecstasy. I though about many things, including my mother. As the effects began to wear off, and I became more lucid, I began to weep. I stood up, still holding my needle in my hand, and continued to weep. Suddenly, I heard a noise behind me. I turned, shoving my needle into a pocket quickly with one hand, clearing my face with the other. I smiled softly by way of greeting, as I did not fully trust my tongue yet to speak

"Sebille, my dear friend, whatever is wrong? Why were you crying?" Christine asked, walking towards me. My mind raced. What if she found out?

"N-nothing, Christine. I was just remembering my old friend, Faye. I do miss her so." There, that wasn't a complete lie, for in my lethargy, I had thought about the girl who had taught me so much. Christine seemed to accept this, as I had often told her about how I had looked up to Faye, and, with a friendly smile, turned back around and left. I sighed heavily and took my needle from my pocket and put it back in my case. I straightened up and went off to look where Christine had gone to or to find Meg. No one need know why I was suddenly so cheerful. But, not to my knowledge at the time, there was someone who did know.

Meg seemed to notice my unusually chipper attitude.

"Sebille, why are you so jolly? Christine said you were weeping earlier. What has come over you all of a sudden?" She asked curiously. I shrugged, smiling widely.

"Meg, aren't we supposed to be in with your mother getting measured for our _Hannibal_ costumes? I was under the impression that we were supposed to do that today," Christine said, pausing along the corridor we had been walking along. I nodded fervently; I had heard the same thing. Meg suddenly grew very red in the face.

"Oh! I forgot to tell everyone! Mother has decided to take the material to a proper seamstress shop and have them done there. All of the dancers are going tomorrow, and then the other cast members the day after to be measured! Oh dear, what I mess I've made! I'm afraid we'll have to cut our adventure short by a few minutes. I shall have to leave you girls early so I can fix this mess." We walked in silence for awhile. Suddenly, a thought came to my mind.

"Meg, did your mother tell you what shop it is that we'll be going to?" I asked, my voice laden with worry. Meg thought for a moment.

"I can't quite remember the name, but I do know that it's in a different area of Paris...Over by one of the large parks, I believe she said..." Meg trailed off, trying to remember correctly. I suddenly felt very weak in the knees. We were going to my mother's shop, and I knew it would not turn out to be a pleasant trip.

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**Oh no! Not a visit to the wicked witch of the west's shop! I mean...-cheesy grin- I tried the strangest things as inspiration for this chapter...First, watching _Sliding Doors _while writing. Have any of you seen that? It's such a great film. Then I listened to _Learn to be Lonely _nonstop for about three hours while reading Leroux's novel and two other fanfics while attempting to write. And all those French Onion Sunchips helped a bit as well.**

**And, if anyone has a boat, a bunch of candles, a pipe organ, and an Erik they don't want, I'd like them. I have a lake in my basement now. Just missing these key items. -.-; My basement has flooded. And the water is really cold! (I slipped and fell in!)**

**And now! To my lovely (and not so lovely) reviewers!**

**Sebbied: ...**

**Kat097: There are no words to express my gratitude for you. Thank you just doesn't seem enough. But, it'll have to be, since it'd be really hard to bake you brownies!**

**MooMoo-Sama: Of course I'll continue! And thanks!**

**Inkpems: Thanks...**

**Nadiil: Thanks! And my apologies...And of course he heard them...unless I had my music up too loud and I just couldn't hear him tell me to turn it down. xD**

**Sebbied1: I'm ever so glad that we got this all sorted out. I still wish that we could find out who it was that used your name! -grr- No matter. The Black Knights always triumph! ( oO My sister read all that you and I were talking about on the board and yelled that in my ear o.o) **

**Sereenie: Yes, I know I said I'd change it, but when my beta, who said that she had taken French for three years didn't catch it, I decided to keep it. Do you think you could gracefully ignore it? xD Thanks for reviewing.**

**little lotte angel: Weel, naow, oof corse dat speeling doan't boother meh mooch. Because I typed like that for an entire day to prove a point to a friend of mine! Thanks, and you need to update. Now. Right this moment. Well, after you review, of course!**

**Well, you've gotten this far, so nothing left to do but please review! Haha, that kinda rhymed. xD**

**-Kitty-**


	4. Chapter 4

**Priorities**

**A/N: Well, I apologise for not having this up sooner, but my computer decided it didn't want to work for a couple of days, and I'm leaving for a month on Tuesday. BUT! I am taking my computer with me, and I will have internet access it about a week, and if I don't...Don't ask what I'll do. **

**Disclaimer: For a special disclaimer today, is everyone's beloved phantom, Erik! And his beloved kitty (other than me, of course!) Ayesha! **

**Erik: I own Ayesha. Kinda. Though she is a cat, so technically, she owns me.**

**Ayesha: Meooow. (Translation: Damn straight!)**

**Erik: And Kitty owns nothing but the plot and Sebille and the other original characters. And my entire stash of chocolate ice cream. -pouts-**

**Me: -waves a bowl of chocolate ice cream under Erik's nose- But I share! And Erik owns my heart. He just forgot that. -glarepout-**

**Erik: Meep.**

**Me: And! There is a Kay reference in here. Surprise to those who find it! At least I'm pretty sure it's a Kay reference...If it's not, uh...I'm sorry? -sheepish grin-**

**Christine**

I looked with alarm to Sebille. Her face had suddenly gone very pale, and she seemed frozen in place. Meg noticed it, as well. I laid my hand on Sebille's arm gently, looking her in the eye. Meg looked at her with a worried expression.

"Sebille, dear, what's wrong? You've gone white!" Meg exclaimed, putting a hand to Sebille's cheek. A bit of color came back to her face, and Sebille looked around, visibly shaken.

"I..I think we're going to my mother's shop..." she whispered, barely audible. I frowned, straining to hear her comment.

"Your mother's shop? How can you be so certain? There are several seamstress shops in Paris. How are you so sure that the one we're going to is the one your mother works in?" I asked. I secretly hoped that it was Sebille's mother's shop. I wanted to meet the woman who threw her daughter out and blamed her for her husband's death. She looked at me, tears welling in her eyes, ready to fall at a moment's notice.

"Our shop was only a few blocks from the Mémoire Park. I'm almost certain that there aren't any other seamstress shops in the area. But, I wonder, if Maman knew that we were from the Opera Populaire, why would she agree to the job, knowing I would be along? Unless she didn't honestly think I would make it in." She breathed deeply. A bit more color showed in her face, and she took both Meg's and my hands in each of her tiny ones. "Well, let's not dwell on that until we're forced to! Let's continue, Meg needs to get back to the dormitory to inform the other dancers. Let us go!" And she led us off, trying desperately to mask her worry.

As we walked, seemingly carefree, down the halls of the Opera Populaire to the ballet dormitory, I felt a strong feeling of anxiety and a sense of being watched grow in my chest. Suddenly, a dark shape appeared in the corridor in front of us. We gasped loudly and stopped dead in our tracks. We were about to scream and run off, when the figure stepped into the circle of light from the gas lamp nearby. It was the mysterious Persian.

"What are you girls doing down here alone? Little Giry, shouldn't you be helping your mother?" He inquired in his foreign accent. We gaped, still thoroughly surprised at the sudden appearance. As though sensing that we were very startled, and in no mood at the moment to reply, he simply nodded and walked past. The three of us stood where he had left us, gaping silently. I gulped and looked over to my two companions. Meg had gone a touch pale, but Sebille looked almost amused. I shook my head slightly, and squeezed Sebille's hand.

"Come along, girls. Meg needs to sort out the mess she made." And we hurried off, not wanting to have anymore unexpected encounters.

**Sebille**

As the three of us hurried along down the dimly lit corridor, I tried to keep up the pretense of being happy and carefree. Inside my mind was being thrown from side to another as I imagined what would happen the next day when I walked into the shop and met eyes with my mother who I had all but forgotten. Many different scenes played in my mind, each more unpleasant than the last. But, what would be worse, being humiliated in front of the girls I had become friends with by the woman who threw me out, or being disclaimed once more by the mother I had tried so desperately to love since I was a small child? And what if she turned the theater away simply because I was part of it? The first performance of _Hannibal_ was in a month; we couldn't afford to have to find a different seamstress before then. The lead parts and their understudies had their own seamstresses, so it would be no problem for them, but there was nearly thirty girls and young men in the chorus. If we got turned away, it would be most certainly my fault.

We arrived in the ballet dormitories, breathless and still shocked from the surprise meeting with the mysterious Persian on the way. Looking around the room, Meg seemed relieved to see that most of the ballet girls were in the dormitories, mostly getting ready for dinner. I sighed and moved over to my bed, collapsing happily, and buried my head in my pillow. Christine sat lightly at the foot of my bed, listening to Meg as she informed the other ladies of the fittings tomorrow. A few chattered excitedly about the prospects of getting out of the opera house, and a few of the older girls made lewd remarks about Meg having informing them on such short notice. Like they really had any other plans, I thought idly.

I laid there for about ten more minutes, listening to Meg and Christine converse quietly, now over at Christine's bed, and to the other girls as they made their ways out to get something to eat. Eventually I sat up and stretched. My two friends glanced over at me quickly, but soon went back to their conversation when they saw that I was looking at them. It made no difference, however; I had seen the worry and pity in those hastened glances. I didn't really want their pity, but at least I knew that there was someone who cared about me. At the moment that was all I needed to know.

Christine, Meg, and I stayed in the dormitories for about twenty minutes before deciding to go into the theater to listen in on the rehearsals. The ballet and chorus weren't supposed to have a rehearsal until the next day after we got back from the seamstress.

**Erik**

I sat back in the shadows of the fifth box, sighing. I had nothing to do, as Christine did not have a lesson today. The time between the lessons were meaningless, and empty. I tried to preoccupy my mind with music of my own creation, but without her voice to sing to its melancholy melody, it sounded flat and hollow. And that damn girl kept pushing her way into my mind. Christine was spending more and more time with the young wench. I needed to get her focus back on her music and away from that intruder.

Someone below in the orchestra pit struck a chord and the introduction to the Opera Populaire's new production started. I realized what was coming and I flinched and turned to leave as the Spanish prima donna, la Carlotta, started screeching out her lines. But I stopped suddenly as I drew close to my passage which was near to the door, I heard giggling and the sounds of at least two footfalls in the hallway. I frowned, realizing that they were coming towards the door of Box Five. Curious to know who would be coming, I slipped into a very dark corner of the box, and listened. I frowned more when I heard Little Giry's voice, and then that damn girl, Sebille.

"Come on, let's watch the rehearsal from the Ghost's box!" Giry's voice was heard saying.

"But won't the ghost be upset? And what if he's in there?" Damn girl. She was too smart, even if she didn't know it.

"Oh, he'll never know! And besides, I doubt he's in there. He's supposedly a musical genius, and no one who knows one note from another wants to listen to Signora Carlotta caterwaul!" Giry laughed at her joke. If no one wanted to listen, why was she there? I froze as I heard a hand turn the handle on the door to the box. Suddenly, a third voice spoke up.

"Come on girls! Let's just use the box next door and not take any chances. Come on, Meg!" It was Christine. My heart leapt, and then sank again as I remembered that she was with her friends. I did not know if I was ever going to be able to spend time with her when she was natural, and conscious, not influenced by my voice or the night. I envied the girls who were her companions. I heard the three of them walk into the box next to mine, the seventh box. The musical massacre continued down on the stage, and I heard the three girls giggling and some joke unheard by me. I moved closer to the wall separating the two boxes so I was able to listen to the girls' chatter.

"So, Christine, have you seen your Angel lately? Perhaps he's having tea on Sunday with Mr.. Opera Ghost on Sunday.." Damn Giry and that Sebille...They could not leave Christine alone!

**Sebille**

I laughed quietly as Meg jested with Christine, watching Christine's cheeks flush at the mention of her 'Angel'. I sighed, and turned to the edge of the box, leaning against it and watching the movement down on the stage. Other than the fact that Carlotta was a terrible woman, the opera was coming along nicely. The chorus and ballet were near to perfection already, and the leads had learned their parts, and were just getting used to the choreography. The scenes were more than half way done, and all that remained was the costumes. I sighed, almost guiltily. What if my mother turned us down? It would ultimately be my fault, though I'm sure some one would try and make up an excuse for it.

Christine had been talking to me, but I had been off in space. "Pardon me?"

Christine started to speak again, but as soon as she opened her mouth, I heard another voice in my ear, as though the speaker were sitting upon my shoulder.

"I know your secrets. Stay away from her. Leave her be, and she need not know what I know." And the voice was gone. I paled and looked around the box, searching for the speaker.

Christine laid a hand on my shoulder, looking at me, worry glowing in her eyes. "Sebille? What is wrong? You look near to fainting!" I shook my head slowly.

"No, I'm fine. But, it is late already. We should retire for the night. Let us go." And I stood up, and, not seeing if my friends were following, started for the door and turned into the hallways and down into the dormitory. Reaching my destination, I changed into some nightclothes quickly and curled up on my bed on top of the covers. I put my face into the pillow and cried. I fell asleep before Christine and Meg came into the room.

Shortly after eight o'clock, Madame Giry bustled into the room, shaking sleeping ballet brats to wakefulness. There was much grumbling and feeble attempts to snatch the bed clothes back. Antoinette Giry hesitated when she got to the sleeping form of Sebille Harvey. She saw the girl's tear stained face. She felt guilty at having hired the girl's mother to be the seamstress, but she was the only one desperate enough for money to agree to making near on fifty costumes. She wondered idly as she woke Sebille how her mother was going to react.

Sebille sat up and stretched groggily. She reached down to the trunk at the end of the bed and pulled out a simple gown and corset. She waited until Meg had woken up and had shaken off the sleep to get dressed as she could not do up the corset herself. She gasped as Meg pulled the top lace very tight. Meg blushed and mumbled an apology.

Within about a half hour the ballet corps was ready to go across Paris to get fitted for their new costumes. Since there were so many of them, and many of the girls did not have much money, they were walking. It wasn't too far; they should get there around eleven. Sebille took several deep breaths to reassure herself. Meg and Christine kept hugging her and murmuring words of consolation to her. With a stern word from Madame Giry, the girls left the Opera Populaire. It was fated to be an outing that would change both Christine and Sebille's lives.

A few hours later, with few mishaps and large amounts of flirting, gossiping, and laughing, the entire corps de ballet stood outside of a seamstress shop that was all to familiar to Sebille. She paled, and her vision swam for a moment, but she shook her head softly and carried on, following Meg into the shop, gripping Christine's hand so hard her knuckles were white.

Two women were already inside, and Sebille smiled widely, recognizing the taller one as her long time friend, Faye. She must have come in to check on Sebille's mother and the shop. As Sebille turned to Meg and Christine to point out her old companion, Madame Giry went to speak with Sebille's mother. Pulling Christine and Meg behind her, Sebille suddenly launched herself onto the unsuspecting Faye.

"Oh, Faye! It's so good to see you again! I've missed you ever so much! Look! I made it in! These are my friends, Meg Giry and Christine Daae. Girls, this is my longtime friend and former dance instructor, Faye Beaumier." Sebille flushed with happiness. Faye laughed and said a few words of greeting to Meg and Christine before launching into a conversation with Sebille. Christine watched Sebille talk animatedly to Faye. Christine hadn't seen Sebille so happy before. She smiled at the younger girl's excited behavior. Suddenly, Sebille looked past Faye and her eyes hardened. She had caught the eye of her mother, and some girls who were standing between the two Harvey women almost felt the chill in the air.

**A/N: I guess I should put this in. I'm mixing in the movie, Leroux, and Kay, plus tweaking it a bit myself. Like, supposedly Christine's lessons were daily and in the morning, but I find that it suits my needs better that they're weekly and in the afternoon. Yup. And, in case any of you were wondering, my Erik is Gerry! Yet again, because that suits my purposes better than Leroux or Kay's Erik. And he's a whole lot sexier. **

**Erik: -blush- Thanks...**

**Me: -rolls eyes- It's not like you haven't heard it a thousand other times before from random people across the globe.**

**Erik: Shhhh! They don't know that! Anyway, allow me to answer the review. Since there's just one, you know.**

**Me: Stop rubbing it in.**

**Erik: little lotte angel: Kitty expresses her heartfelt thanks to you, since you were the only one to review. Here's the next chapter, and she apologizes for it's lateness. I assure you, she had absolutely no control over the situation. And, since you were the only one to review, here's a lovely gif-**

**Me: Wait! You can't give that gift to her! I just gave her a huge jar of chocolate baked goods and a puppy! She doesn't need any more!**

**Erik: But, technically, that was to Gabrielle, not to LLA. (sorry, I abbreviated your name)**

**Me: -thinks- Dammit. Fine. Take it. -holds out a luverly pair of leather gloves that previously belonged to Erik himself.- Now, the rest of you, review!**

**..I suppose I should answer Jordan's review...Thanks...I can't believe you remembered that nickname! -blush- I love your penname! The Anti-Fop! Yeah!**

**So, I'll see you all in about a week or so. If not, blame my family. **


	5. Chapter 5

**Priorities**

**A/N: Yeah, I'm back. It's a really short chapter, and I apologise. I've been having a really hard time with life in the past few months. I'll try to get back into a regular writing groove. I don't like this chapter...Please review.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything but the few original characters in this story. I own so little that I'm sitting on a cat condo with my lap top on a TV tray. Seriously. And I've given up my mind, it's up for sale.**

**Sebille**

I stared as I caught the gaze of my mother. I suddenly felt very faint, but I was determined not to look away. She did not speak or move any closer to me, but just stared. I started moving towards her, pushing my way through the girls of the ballet. I did not notice if anyone was following me. My focus was entirely on the woman in front of me. Finally I was within a foot of her, and I stopped.

"Sebille," she said, still not taking her eyes away from mine. I swallowed and raised my chin defiantly.

"Mother. How have you been doing?" I said the last bit with a bitter tinge. I was still feeling faint, but I could feel my cheeks flushing in anger. In the moment of silence between my mother and me, I noticed that most of the girls around us had stopped talking as well. My mother finally tore her gaze from mine, and looked me up and down.

"I've been doing extremely well. So, you made it in. How many people did you have to sleep with before they accepted you?" I now flushed with embarrassment, and I heard several gasps and titters from the girls who were listening. Suddenly, Madame Giry was at my side, along with Meg, Christine, and Faye.

"Madame Harvey, I assure you, your daughter did not have to bribe to get in. Whether you'd like to believe it, Sebille is a girl with extreme talent, despite living under your guide for as long as she did. Now, if you wouldn't mind, we are here for fittings, not for you to demean any of the girls in my ballet." My mother looked at me, and a she looked as though she were about to send us off, but she just nodded to Madame Giry and went to the back of the shop where she kept her tools for fitting. Faye and Meg had both put their arms around me, and I felt Christine's hand on my shoulder. I felt tears sting at my eyes, but they did not fall. I noticed several of the other girls sending me pitying glances, and a few of them came up to me to say a few words of condolence before heading to a line that had formed in the back of the room by the fitting room. I held up my composer for a few moments before turning and burying my head in, surprisingly, Christine's embrace and released the tears that had threatened to fall all morning. The three girls comforted me as I wept openly.

**Christine**

I watched the confrontation between my young friend and her mother with bated breath. I couldn't believe what I was hearing from Sebille's mother's mouth. How could she be so cruel to her own daughter? I hardly noticed when Meg grabbed my hand, but I did notice, in surprise, when I felt Faye's hand on my shoulder. I glared at the girls who started giggling when Sebille's mother asked her about how she managed to get into the corps de ballet.

It did not surprise me when Madame Giry stepped forward to defend the poor, trembling girl, and Meg, Faye, and I followed her to comfort Sebille. What did surprise me was the fact that Madame Harvey still agreed to do the fittings. When she had turned around and gone to the back of the shop, the three of us stood by Sebille as she stood there, trembling. A few girls stopped to talk with her, but not many. She just stood there, and then turned into my embrace. I would have figured she would go to Faye, whom she had known forever, but I held her sobbing form anyway.

I wasn't sure how long she cried, but Faye and Meg stood with us as I held Sebille. Finally, she straightened up, her face red and her eyes swollen, but no more tears fell. She took a deep breath and smiled bravely. She got into line and dragged Faye with her and started to talk animatedly as though the entire thing had not just happened. I sighed and turned back to Meg.

"Poor girl. We should do something for her when we get back to the opera." Meg nodded. We got into line, listening to Sebille and Faye talk.


End file.
